


Soon

by CassiCat



Category: Deep Dish Nine- Fandom, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Angst, Deep Dish Nine, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiCat/pseuds/CassiCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Deep Dish Nine fic.</p>
<p>From a park bench, Elim Garak reflects on the last two years of his life and all the things he lost when he left his shop, and Julian, behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Tinsnip's non-canon Deep Dish Nine fic "The Darkest Season". Set in the same side-universe.

The cold wind brushes against his cheeks as he silently gazes at the world surrounding him, just letting it all go by.  After the eventful last two years, the ability to simply exist and let with world continue turning around him was as close to peace as he would ever get.  Just sitting on a park bench, breathing fresh air, seems to be a small miracle to him.  It doesn’t heal the red lines over his skin, nor does it allow the scars to fade, but it soothes his soul and quiets his mind to be virtually invisible and anonymous.

The noise is a bit unnerving and overwhelming, but his keenly honed mind can keep up with it now better than ever.  The light is harsh, but he doesn’t care – he has become accustomed to lights that are far too bright and the aching behind his eyes barely registers now.  The weather is far too cold for his liking, but he bears it well enough, retreating into the warmth of his gray coat when necessary. 

He doesn’t feel free, but this is close.

And suddenly, without warning, a woman is sitting beside him.  He offers her a half-hearted smile and a nod of acknowledgement.  She says nothing.  She rarely does speak to him when he is reflecting, something for which he is grateful.  It’s hard enough to think about; he is not yet ready to share the horrors of the last two years with someone who still has one foot on the path of light.

Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes drag out into hours.  His mind keeps track of time perfectly, as it always has, and it surprises him when it takes her an hour and a half to finally speak.  Perhaps he is not the only one sorting through demons.

“Odd, isn’t it?” At his questioning glance, she elaborated, “How we spend our lives hiding from the world, claiming we prefer the silence and the solitude when we are well, and yet the moment we are hurt, we can find peace only in the heart of chaos.”

No, he wasn’t the only one fighting demons in these moments.  If anything proved that, it was her matter-of-fact tone while making the statement, as though it were truly just an offhand comment about the weather.  He knew there had been a reason she had fled Cardassia with him, but he hadn’t afforded it much of his thought.  He had been too absorbed in his own broken life to pick up on the fact that she was equally, or at least similarly, shattered.

“I always assumed it had something to do with my past profession and my knowledge that it’s often most difficult to properly take someone out in the middle of a crowd.”

“Part of it is simple logic, I’m sure.” She agreed lightly, then added, “But even as a boy, you found comfort and safety in the midst of anarchy and confusion and noise.”

“You were always with me in the crowds.” He answered softly, “You too find peace in letting the world pass you by.  That, in turn, brought me peace.”

His mother’s lips twitched slightly, but she said nothing more.  A companionable silence fell between them and the minutes slipped by uncounted.  Finally, after more than two hours (two hours, ten minutes, and forty-three seconds by his internal clock), he finally spotted the reason why he had chosen this spot in the first place. 

A young man somewhere in his mid-twenties with golden skin, slightly mussed brown hair, and absolutely no idea that his bright red shirt clashed with the grey pants he wore strolled through the park.  Without turning his head the slightest, Elim could see the man’s hazel eyes were slightly glazed, giving barely enough attention to his path so as to avoid being knocked over.  He was lost in his own mind, in his racing thoughts, or perhaps – just maybe – in a memory. 

Julian Bashir stopped making his way toward the pizza place he worked at to drop his bag on the ground and gaze out at the river that cut its way through the city.  His arms were wrapped around himself, his face an emotionless mask.  He pulled a familiar coat close, and it took only a moment for Elim to recognize it as the coat he had left at Julian’s apartment one night and forgotten to ever retrieve.  The symbolism of the coat warmed his heart and saddened him at the same time.  Julian, meanwhile, was staring at the water, his head bowed slightly. 

Was he remembering?

Was he replaying that night in his mind?  How the two of them had walked hand-in-hand through the park after dark, talking about _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ just hours before Garak was uprooted and set on the path through hell once more.  There had been a moment, while they were gazing at the river, that the conversation had died off and for one second, Julian had acted like he might finally take the plunge.  Their lips had been a mere two inches from each other when Julian changed his mind.  And while disappointed, Elim had only made a note to try to make Julian more comfortable next time.

Then the call had come in.  And Elim had needed to run.

Not that, in the end, it had done any good.  He had still ended up at the mercy of his pursuers.  And all the while, he had lamented the brief, ten minute explanation he had thrown at Julian before leaving.  Ten minutes didn’t do justice to how he felt for the young man.  It didn’t even come close.

He felt his mother’s hand fall on his arm and her soft voice murmur, “You can’t stay hidden from him forever, Elim.”

“I know, Mother.” His tone portrayed just how much he didn’t want to discuss the matter.

But of course, she disregarded that and pressed on, “He misses you.  What good are you doing by staying away?”

“Enough to make me stay away.”

A soft sigh told him that she still didn’t understand, but that was fine.  She didn’t have to.  There was no way he could express how much danger Julian would be put in if Elim _did_ speak with him.  There were no words to properly explain how much he needed Julian to stay alive, safe, and oblivious to the growing darkness around him.

But when Julian turned to pick up his bag and a tear rolled down his cheek, there were also no words to express how much Elim wanted to go to him.  He held himself in check, reminding himself sharply:

_Not yet._

But soon.


End file.
